Mon coeur reste toujours le meme...

losing sight of the bird as a bird
& not the bone-piercing sirens of my longing

bereaved,

thus expires then pines
for the spring in which it nurtured
with harrowed propagation

O' dystopic night--a bird of ill flight

from scattered light seismic where beat of blaring strobes
are otherwise fingers elongated

thin, thinner than rind-thin
thinner than the translation of skin

carve of demons
in ash